Best Banisters Poems
Blue Ribbon Moment Monoku
school rule...don't slide down banisters...rule ignored...caught by principal's arms
9-2-20
Categories:
banisters, high school, memory,
Form:
Monoku
Mind often makes a circuitous pilgrimage
Sliding down and going up the banisters of time
As I hear the grating sound of worn stairs behind
Memories come darting in and out of shadows
From childhood’s flamboyant days
Mind scuttles between the past and the present
Skipping over the bliss of buoyant youth
To life’s present weary days and to the future
Life’s train has sadly changed its track
Years, like torn pages have flown away
But the frivolous inner child pines
Obstinately for all that once held dear
I remember having run over plains n’ paddy fields
Trying to cut across their widening margins
Brushing past brambles and thickets
To chase butterflies that came to molest the lovely blooms
How I went on a search to meet the winged seraphs
That I heard, sang in chorus in Heaven’s gilded halls
Looked for God, amid scurrying clouds,
To slay the ghosts, I believed, hidden in my closet
I remember my youth of squandered passions
When I scrawled love’s graffiti on my mind’s wall
And carried my beloved’s picture in my mind
So flawless that no artist could ever conspire to alter.
Now I constantly wage a losing battle
Against forces that threaten to take away my calm
All I see is pain, death and human suffering
And life sadly getting lost in meaningless strife
Age has burdened me with a deadly weight
Fastening chains on my once supple feet
All I pray is – Don’t let me be a burden to anyone
And give me a mindset to accept all that comes my way
--------------------------------
April.13. 2023
Open Poetry. 6. Poetry Contest
Sponsor. Charlotte Puddifoot
Categories:
banisters, cheer up, desire, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
Snowy footprints lead the way up the drive to my front door
Through a path of four foot high light up candy canes they soar
Beautiful wreath of glorious design greeting loved ones so dear
Welcome to my "holiday home" at this special time of year
Come inside to coziness and enjoy the trimmings everywhere
Garlands entwined on banisters,red velvet draped across each chair
Twinkling silver lights as a vision of the tree grows near
Welcome to my "holiday home" at this special time of year
Make yourself at home as you indulge in festive sweets
Every table brimming with salty nuts and Yule time treats
Let me make you comfortable as you enjoy a cup of cheer
Welcome to my "holiday home" at this special time of year
As we gather 'round the tree we sing aloud the songs we love
Of Santa and his reindeer and of course the child sent from above
Then we open all the gifts when Christmas's bounty is made clear
Welcome to my "holiday home" at this special time of year
We'll sit down to a scrumptious feast at a table overflowing
Look around at all our loved ones,faces so alive and glowing
Wonderful to be together with the ones we hold so dear
Welcome to my "holiday home" at this special time of year
As the snowfall grows by inches outside on the frozen ground
We are inside nice and toasty spreading all this love around
Gather up some extra blankets,everyone is staying here
Welcome to my "holiday home" at this special time of year
** for "Holiday Home" contest
sponsored by Linda-Marie Sweetheart of P.S.
Categories:
banisters, happiness, holidaytime, tree, time,
Form:
Kyrielle
The house came with ghosts.
Not the subtle kind, either—no
wistful sighs or cool drafts,
just full-blown poltergeist tantrums.
Cabinets slamming at 2 a.m.,
spectral remnants of old arguments
rattling the windows, the smell
of burnt toast no matter
how thoroughly they scrubbed.
Still, the buyer had insisted,
"It’s got good bones."
And it was true: the skeletons
were stable in their stasis.
Antique mahogany banisters
curved like ribcages cradling
the heart of the house. Windows
leaded with panes' frames
mettle enough to turn an afternoon
light into prayers. A fireplace
cozy enough to roast the marrow
of an ox into paralysis without
its animal sense even noticing.
But bones have a way of remembering.
She hadn’t counted on the ruinous
creaks of staircases groaning
as if mourning her descent into ruts.
Nor the basement walls whispering
stock tips from the 1920s—sell
steel; buy radium.
She certainly hadn’t considered
the attic, where—let’s just say
she never liked Victorian dolls,
and now she likes them even less.
Why buy? Why outbid?
Pride, mostly. The rollercoaster
of the auction, the plummet
into calamity sweetened by
elbowing the slick realtor
with his laminated grin. The thrill
of the gavel’s fall, the weight
of a binding contract. She didn’t care
about the dangers of yellow wallpaper
or the weeds growing through the parlor floor.
She didn’t even really need shelter.
But sometimes the juiciest deals
aren’t made with forethought,
only with hunger.
And what’s the value of hunger
without a little haunting to shatter
your comfortable sense of status?
Categories:
banisters, conflict, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
In hushed strides silver threads tonight unfold again,
my longing on trampled soil to be rolled again.
Beneath maple leaves my silent flower shivers,
scarlet bed of withering dreams is cold again.
So numb my desires echo in hollowed umbra,
My wishes I fear might remain untold again.
Lonely lark from wilderness sings of my despair,
Blazing sparks simmer on snow being bold again.
Oh beloved! How oft have I waned crescent soul,
Your veil of molten stars I wish to hold again.
Dreams cuddled in beguile blossoms of aurora,
Await to relive their promises old again.
Fir-kissed caress of heartbeats over years apart,
Enchant siphoned silk silhouettes to mould again.
So bereft my memoirs leave no footprints on sand,
agony on alluring waves was sold again.
Celeste dances in nebula streams on sand dunes,
Graceful Aphrodite will I behold again?
Cynthia petals drape my hopes in banisters,
I pray my tender love grows manifold again.
August 31, 2020
Ghazal Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
12 syllables per line checked on www.howmanysyllables.com
Categories:
banisters, analogy, longing, love,
Form:
Ghazal
Behold the abominable annals of the Storm domicile,
A living, groaning edifice of lumber and bureaucratic despair—
Where Allen Storm, the paternal prodigal of procedural pedantry,
Treads upon its creaking floors with the rigor of a misfiled memo,
And Betty Storm, matron of mundane mismanagement,
Douses its sentient walls with detergents of dire discontent,
While young Charles Storm, a cherubic herald of domestic disarray,
Lobs rancid vegetables at its trembling windows in a fit of unreason.
O disconsolate domicile, thou art no mere inert structure,
But a quivering, sulking house of living, loathsome lament—
Its beams and banisters pulse with the bureaucratic heartbeat of neglected archives,
And from its secret cellar, a staccato drip of mislaid paperwork emerges,
Each drop a damning note in the dissonant dirge of decay,
A relentless reminder of a dwelling abused by its custodians.
In a most uncouth and disquieting retort,
The living house retaliates with vile vibratos of revolt:
Its walls emit a stifled, staccato sigh of overripe despair,
As doors creak open like the groaning lament of discarded forms,
And corridors exude a miasma of forgotten memos and administrative regret,
So that the very air around it becomes thick with repugnant, repressed bureaucracy—
A spectacle so discomforting that even the sturdiest sensibilities recoil
In revulsion at the unholy union of living architecture and domestic abuse.
Thus, in the annals of the universe where Vogon verse is vile and void,
The Storm family's treatment of their sentient, suffering house
Breeds an unutterable and visceral reaction in the heart of any unfortunate listener,
A poetic penance of pulsating pain and perturbed paper trails,
That leaves one pondering in nauseous wonder the tragic farce
Of a house that lives—and dies—under the oppressive hand of the Storms.
Categories:
banisters, family,
Form:
Vogon Poetry
ancient oak got on his knees
the best he could considering he is older
and his roots are creaking, and his knees no longer bend
he needed guidance, and he knew where to go.
God heard and answered ancient oak’s plea.
a few months later ancient oak was put into a house.
making lovely banisters, poles, window ledges
thank you! Ancient oak said to God.
he had always wanted to be appreciated.
“look at this beautiful oak flooring!” the new homeowners said.
his prayers had been answered.
Categories:
banisters, tree,
Form:
Personification
Within the first slivers of platinum moonlight, fireflies flicker.
Diamond dust from a bygone comet streaks by, piercing electric skies,
whilst a balmy August twilight enwraps an aging porch.
The gleam of a single candelabra casts light upon
harlequin-green ivy that tangles around worn banisters,
while primroses grow through cracks in the weathered stairs.
Creaking tones of oaken rocking chairs serenade hushed crickets.
Silhouettes of frolicking barn owls coruscate,
as the aroma of fresh peach pie floats along, synchronizing with the zephyrs.
Nostalgia-infused memories materialize, then vaporize like morning dew.
Your resounding laughter gets swept away,
like a swift current pulling transient sands of time with it.
Ephemeral remembrances are all I have of you now—
momentary glimpses through the Wheel of Time's mirror,
for it’s just the summer breeze rocking your vacant chair to and fro.
Categories:
banisters, deep, grief, imagery, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Then the winter night will knock on the door,
And as one would step inside the cerulean lake;
Vying with cold, have to discern the warmth of life,
The fishes will gather as if drooping on the feet,
The moon would come down to the floor of the heart,
Ah! What a wonder, could scratch even an obdurate,
There will be a river of desires;
But there will be a boat of sacrifice,
There will be a road to success,
But there will be trees aside the road,
Whose leaves are wet with tears;
Tears for those who do not have a place to weep even,
And there will be stairs to heaven,
But there will be banisters to support,
If one misses a step!
Categories:
banisters, nature,
Form:
Free verse
That autumn morning, when I first saw you
Tall and handsome, draped in a suit,
I felt life, throbbing within
Never to leave me.
Shorn of love and feeling for days
Burnt screams of emptiness
Had resonated in my heart’s crevices.
Without a name.
You brought me relief and rescued me
from bearing the burden of historical anchorage.
Swept me off my feet, resonating
Ceremonial celebrations.
Your careful maneuvers, knowledge and style,
in structure, orchestrated a symphony of dreams .
in the rooms, in every corner and breath
Culture resonated.
.
Disconnected, yet with a regard
You shaped me in your taste.
I felt my being rapture, with a sweetness
Unspoken of.
No longer empty, I felt myself glow.
Chandeliers, banisters whispered gratitude.
I felt life ripple through meetings over dinners.
Anniversaries over years.
Then one day you left.
A change. Catastrophic.
Knocks or footsteps no longer sound.
Nor curtains or candles lightened
The gloom of emptiness
Dark and deep.
A mass of broken brick and mortar now,
Shorn of cemented hopes in my crevices---
I feel shattered, ashamed of being
damned. Dilapidated.
Categories:
banisters, silence,
Form:
Free verse
Oh! How great it tastes: Steamy Riot
But is it delicious like Quiet?
How glorious it appears: Chariot
Still in some wars and conflicts: Idiot…
I had had to talk about Riot:
The scene promising all but quiet,
The maddest jury of a chariot,
As men go for chaos like diet.
Real and fake claims clash with canisters
They flee who had wished to spoil banisters:
Rioters who hang on: Real Monsters
On the spur of the moment, songsters,
Also heroes for loving their words
And towards sad death moving in herds…
The crucial point: Riot not quiet:
While it reigneth all vultures flyeth.
Categories:
banisters, analogy, character, conflict, violence,
Form:
Rhyme
Jennifer’s adoring husband built her a castle greenhouse
surrounded by a gorgeous brick wall with round banisters.
she spent spring and summer out there, planting flowers
poppies, lilies, tulips, and roses were her favorites.
She also nurtured wild flowers like woodland sunflowers
Queen Anne’s lace, mosses, violets, and wild strawberries
Her husband rarely ventured out into the wilds of her garden world
Those who did were amazed at her quintessential green thumb
She would dig up plants that looked like they were not going to make it.
Do magic things to them, and not only would they survive. They thrived.
Jennifer, the gardener, am amazing woman with a magic garden kingdom.
Whose beautiful garden brought life back to her neighbors.
Categories:
banisters, garden,
Form:
Free verse
More graceful in full blubber
than a ballroom dancer,
a seal slides down banisters
of ocean spirals
in ice-cold currents.
Smiling like a cat,
slipping into water,
swimming down and up,
for fish and krill and squid.
Sunning, sleeping on the rocks,
I could never push you over.
Seal - immovable.
Seal - so fat.
Categories:
banisters, animal, nature,
Form:
Free verse
You opened your doors in 1998.
Little did you realise, how highly you’d rate.
With grand halls and ceilings and banisters gleaming.
When people come to visit, it’s like they are dreaming.
No detail too small, overlooked or unfinished.
Any uncertainty would soon be diminished.
The Festival Village, a hidden little gem.
This just has to be a ten out of ten.
There’s Peel Avenue, Regent Crescent, Barton Square.
Thousands of people just love to shop there.
Millions visit you, year upon year.
Perhaps when they leave, they shed a small tear.
So many customers knew you’d be great.
A perfect place to visit for a first date.
The Orient, to wine and dine.
Each restaurant is simply divine.
The Dome in the centre, draws people to enter.
They look up in wonder at all of its splendour.
Your staff are so friendly, helpful and kind.
If you lose a child they’re easy to find.
Magnificent statues, strong and tall.
A spectacular chandelier in the Great Hall.
Nearly twenty years past, is that how long it’s been!
Here’s to another twenty, living the dream
Categories:
banisters, anniversary, appreciation,
Form:
Rhyme
I recall the rural life of the butterfly
Extravagantly —that proud floating mass of wings.
Her wings flutter from sea to coast so eloquently,
Yet silent with the muteness of frightened breeze.
They are banners with buntings of newness — striped,
Spotted, arched, dotted.
Her flamboyant life history, reading it backwards,
Is an exhibition of time and cosseted patience....
The winged one, aged and tried, schleps to the stirs of a narcoleptic pupa,
Hanging on the banisters of a dear larva who's egged on to
Run the full circle and announce the mating time and a most
Fragile conception.
Categories:
banisters, butterfly, insect, life,
Form:
Free verse